You Are the Moon
by ALiteraryPrincess
Summary: Remus Lupin and Luna Lovegood realize and contemplate their strong connections to the moon, finding love in each other as they do so. Set during PoA, inspired by You Are the Moon by the Hush Sound


You Are the Moon

**You Are the Moon **

Alas, my first Harry Potter fanfic! So basically it occurred to me that Remus/Luna is a highly under-looked HP fandom couple, and that it makes the most since to pair them together, since they're both strongly connected to the moon. And c'mon what can be sweeter than LoonyMoony fluff? Please note that this is a semi-songfic and should be read while listening to "You are the Moon" by the Hush Sound. MILD WARNING: This fic is set during PoA, making Luna about twelve, and Remus somewhere in his early thirties, I believe. If you don't like it, don't read it! DISCLAIMER: All characters © J.K. Rowling. I only own the storyline of this fic, which I am writing for entertainment purposes only.

**Chapter the First: Moon Child (Remus' Perspective) **

I dig my forehead into the palm of my left hand as my fingers grip themselves softly in my hair. Try as I may, I just can't even begin to slightly make out Vincent Crabbe's handwriting as I grade his one inch essay on hinkypunks. My right hand twitched from irritation as it held my red grading quill. I assumed that I was going to have an easy time grading these essays from the Third Year students, but obviously I was tragically wrong. Trying to read Vincent's essay was about as difficult of decoding Egyptian hieroglyphics! _Actually, that would probably be easier than this…_I smirked to myself as this facetious thought made its way through my mind. Just then, I heard skipping coming down the empty corridor to the DADA classroom. I prepared myself to be snippy with whichever student wanted to annoy me now, but I was pleasantly surprised when that certain student revealed herself to be you, Luna Lovegood. Dear little Luna, you are perhaps the sweetest young witch I'd ever had the pleasure of teaching. You're incredibly attentive in your Second Year class, as well as incredibly participating. The fact that you're harshly picked on and ostracized by your peers continues to baffle me. What is even more amazing about you is despite the fact that your classmates treat you like some kind of freak, you continue being as kind as you can be to them. I frequently see you give thoughtful presents to even the ones that hate you on their birthdays, not caring when they simply throw it aside laughing. You are also the most beautiful individual I've ever known, on the precious inside, and on the amazing outside. The first time I ever laid eyes on you at the beginning of the school year, my breath was literally taken away by your beauty. Everything about you is like a piece of brilliantly crafted art, whether it be your waist-length, wavy pale blonde hair of silk-like texture, or your incredible large and soulful silver grey eyes and marble white skin, which look like they should belong to a fine china doll rather than a human. But don't worry about that darling, they're all at home on you. You're perfect, Luna. Blessed Moon Child.

I pause in my grading attempts when you finally reach the classroom, carrying an armful of something I can't quite make out. You answer my question by laying out your offerings on my desk, standing up on the tips of your toes to due so. I find the fact that you don't even bother to come up the small flight of stone stairs to my desk, but rather reach up to it from the three-foot level it was on adorable. I look up to see your dainty hands spread out blossoms from the magnolia tree near the lake, noticing how large the blossoms are this year.

"Look, Professor! I'm the Flower Witch!" You chirp in your melodic, dreamlike voice.

I allow myself a grin and a chuckle at the precious yet odd comment you gave me, and lay my grading quill down to grasp the nearest blossom I could reach. You make your exit, turning on your heel and skipping back off into the quiet corridor as soon as you finish your task, humming a bright little unintelligible tune. I bring the blossom up my eyelevel, grinning rather dumbly as I smelled its delicate floral sweetness. I hope you know how special you are to me, Dear Luna. You are my moon, the only moon I don't fear, but yearn for.


End file.
